Chapter 15 Snowglobe Magic
SNOWGLOBE MAGIC
LILAH
“Hands off.” I swatted Holden away from the stacks of cookies lined up with military precision on the kitchen counter.
He’d finally let me go back to work once we’d woken up the day after Christmas—but only after he chased me around the lobby and caught me and fooled around with me against the hotel front desk.
From there to the kitchen, and from the spa to the library, and on the mountain itself, reminders of us were everywhere.
This place was ours, even if he was the only owner.
I’d never be able to enter the lodge and not see us together everywhere now, and laugh and swoon all over again, which inspired an entirely new set of worries.
My time with him was fun and special, but what now?
Last night, in his arms, we seemed to agree we’d keep on seeing each other, our fling wouldn’t end.
How though? What exactly did he have in mind?
Clandestine hookups or would the staff know me as his—girlfriend?
Significant other? Partner? What type of situationship was the next level above a fling?
My stomach knotted harder than the dough I was rolling into perfect little snowballs, preparing another batch for the oven.
Through a mouthful of sea salt caramel and chocolate chip cookie, he protested, and gestured. “There’s at least two kinds I haven’t tried yet. What are those?”
“My Brown Butter Snickerdoodles with Eggnog Glaze. And these are Peppermint Bark Shortbread Bars.”
“Give. Now. Must have.” He moaned, his palm raised expectantly.
“There won’t be any cookies left at the rate you’re burning through them, Mr. Snowman. Not to mention the sugar crash in your near future.” I poked his stomach, shook my head, and handed them over, anyway.
“You said I could help. I’m taste testing.”
“Measuring out ingredients for me was also an important task you completed without making a mess, but I think every minute you stay here is tempting fate for something bad to happen.”
“Like what? They’re baked with joy, iced with care, and literally pieces of happiness. You can’t just keep these to yourself.” He finished—nearly toppling off his stool while reaching for another.
“Hey!” I laughed. “Seriously, don’t you have other work to do?”
With dramatic flair, his shoulders fell. “Okay, you’re right. I’ll leave you be. For now.”
“Aw, don’t be sad, Mr. Snowman—” I started, but he grabbed me up instead, and swayed with me in the kitchen, singing a song in my ear about a few of his favorite things, substituting words like Lilah’s pussy, nipples, and clit.
The only proper response to his spontaneous song was to fling my head back and howl as he twirled me out and back in. How could I not? Holden had a way of bringing brightness back into my life that had long ago gone missing.
To end it, he dipped me. My hair cascaded to the floor, which I’d left loose for the day when typically I’d pin it up while cooking. Warm air skimmed my neck as he kissed there, stealing my breath away.
“What was that?” I asked breathlessly with a smile when he let me back up.
“Something to remember me by until we see each other again.” With a playful wink and smoldering smile, he finally disappeared from sight, out the kitchen doors.
A giggle bubbled up. All at once it hit me—how lucky I was to spend this time with him.
To think I could have spent these days alone, locked in my own pitiful spiral of anger and grief over the past. Now, on this side of things, I could see clearly what exactly had been missing in my life.
Thanks to him, I started to believe in the possibility of loving someone again.
The timer went off, shaking away those thoughts. I took the last batch of cookies out, pleased with how everything turned out. Holden’s sunburn protocol and excellent nursing attention made the burn cool enough so I could move around the kitchen without wincing.
He had other effects on me, too. My heart grew lighter throughout this entire holiday.
I officially put Christmas back on the list of holidays to celebrate.
But what had I done for him? I hadn’t even given him a real present, and cookies didn’t count, although he wouldn’t object to a box full of all eight kinds I’d prepared, certainly.
From my Pistachio Rose Snowballs to Maple Pecan Toffee Bars, he’d tested and given them each a thumbs up—Holden’s version of Michelin stars, which maybe meant more to me.
A sigh escaped me, because this would likely be our last night alone here. Cal had reported this morning that the snowplows were slowly making their way up the mountain. People would arrive tomorrow and burst this bubble Holden and I had been living in.
Tonight would be my chance to thank him for this special holiday together.
For dinner, I went in search of Holden. Surprisingly, he’d kept out of the kitchen the rest of the afternoon. When I found him, he was in his office, desk buried in paperwork, as he leaned back in his chair, phone pressed to his ear.
He glanced up the second I appeared at the door. After raking down my body at the red dress I’d changed into, he pointed to the empty chair for me to sit.
“Got it. Thanks, Sheriff.” He finished the call, hung up, and sighed. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Road crews finished up just before dusk. The sheriff says he’ll open the switchbacks at dawn.”
The news jolted me like someone had lightly pressed an icy hand to my spine, even though I knew it was coming.
Tomorrow, the staff would return, deliveries would resume, and this place would fill with the energy of everyone working hard toward the same goal, that of making Snow Quest Lodge’s grand opening spectacular.
“Good news,” I offered with a weak smile.
“It’ll get crazy around here, but… we still have tonight.” His eyes glazed over me.
My insides aroused by his attention. “Which is why I’m here. I have a surprise for you.”
His brows lifted. “A present?”
“Not exactly.” I nodded toward the door. “Come on.”
“Okay. But what are you wearing?” With a gleam in his eyes, he came around the desk to me.
I’d gone upstairs to my chilly room and changed into a party dress to wear for the evening, complete with a slit up my thigh, and sweetheart neckline.
“I think whatever you have in mind, I’m underdressed, or you’re over. ”
“No. I kind of like you just the way you are in your sexy flannel shirt, my personal mountain man.” I playfully undid a couple more buttons so his chest could be on display.
“‘Kind of like’ me? Frosty, that’s a tremendous improvement from three days ago. I’ll take it.” He gathered me in his arms and nuzzled my neck. “For the record, I ‘kind of like’ you, too.”
A thrill worked down my spine. “Then I hope you’ll enjoy this. Follow me.” I linked a hand through his arm, and we walked through the quiet lobby and into the Quest by West dining room, where I’d set a single table in the center under the grand chandelier.
Ambient music played from hidden speakers. Ivory tapered candles flickered. And the silver domes I’d placed over each plate gleamed in the light.
“Lilah, you did all this for me?” His jaw dropped, taking it all in.
“Dinner is served. I made us something special. I hope you’re hungry.” A smile tugged at my mouth.
Like a perfect gentleman, he pulled out my chair for me to sit. He leaned and whispered in my ear, “I’m always hungry.” A thrill worked down my spine like every time he’d aroused me. But right now was about a special meal I cooked for him, not about sex.
“What do we have here?” When he lifted the dome from his plate, steam curled up and carried the scents of cherries, seared duck skin, rosemary, chestnut, and butter.
“It’s magret de canard. Chestnut stuffing. Gratin dauphinois. All the delicious food I’d cooked with Pop in his kitchen, made from memory.”
“Is this the exact menu you told me about?”
“I brought the magic,” I whispered.
“You did. Mind if I have a taste?”
“Just a taste? If you want the magic to work, then I expect you to savor every bite and clean the plate.” I winked with a tease.
“Believe me. I intend to.” He loaded his fork with a perfect bite of all three and moaned through the chewing. I delighted in the satisfying sound of his pleasure, this caused by my special recipes.
“Outstanding. My compliments to the chef.” His face smoldered at me like I’d achieved perfection—and in my world, that went straight to my heart.
We ate and talked and laughed. For the first time since the storm rolled in, it didn’t feel like we were snowed in or stuck or suspended in time. But as if this was the way things were meant to be, so easy between us after the past few days.
When a rare quiet moment settled between us as we finished our plates, I asked, “How long have you known you wanted to own a ski lodge?”
The shift in him was immediate. His hands stilled on the fork. His eyes dropped to the tablecloth. Then he exhaled and looked up. “Since my dad died,” he said simply.
I blinked. “Oh, Holden… I didn’t know.”
“I was snowboarding in Courchevel with some friends when I got the call from Griffin, my oldest brother,” he continued, setting his fork down.
“It was unexpected. The stubborn fool wouldn’t take time off work to get properly checked out.
One day here, the next gone. My brothers and I had grown up and weren’t staying close to him much, except maybe Griffin.
But it was the shock of it all. Like I realized I no longer had time left to spend with Dad to make up for it. ”
My fingers fiddled with my napkin in my lap, observing the emotions playing across Holden’s face.